Yes, I’m being serious. I can’t put into words what it’s like to see my own mom that way. To see her face, and her hair, and her hands. To recognize the scent of her, but to know she’s not the one in control. That later she’ll be back, and when she finds out what she’s done, she’ll be broken. That’s typically when the depression would sink in.
Dad promised it would be okay. Mom promised she would be fine.
I knew otherwise.
Monday, things had been fine. Tuesday as well. Wednesday, I got up for school to see Mom sitting in a chair in my room watching me, practically bouncing with too much excitement.
“Finally! It’s about time you got up. Let’s go! I want to get out of here, and your dad will freak if I don’t take you with me.”
It wasn’t Mom. It was Samantha.
“Where do you want to go?” I remember noticing the shake in my own voice.
“There’s a concert in Los Angeles. If we leave soon, we can make it.” She pushed to her feet.
My eyes darted to the side to look for the phone but it wasn’t there.
“I took it. Like I didn’t know the first thing you would do is try to call your dad. He ruins all the fun.”
My heart beat so hard it started to hurt. “I can’t go. I have school. They’ll call Dad if I’m not there.”
“And we’ll already be on the road by then. If I leave you here, you’ll call him the second I go. Come on. What kind of kid are you? You’re supposed to want adventure. You’re supposed to want excitement!”
That had been the first time I wondered if something was wrong with me. If I had it wrong and she was right. If being responsible didn’t mean I was crazy. What kind of kid told on their own parent?
A little burst of excitement lit under my skin. It felt like a mini-explosion. I’d never been to L.A. It could be fun taking the six-hour drive.
“Seriously, show me you’re not such a bore. Let’s go, Lulu.” Calling me a bore was the reminder that feeling excitement over something like this was wrong. I didn’t want to be like her. She was Samantha and she did crazy things and caused problems for Dad and I.
Even when she was Mom, she was the girl whose mother had left her when she was a teen. She’d never told anyone, deciding to be homeless instead, painting murals around the cities she visited and writing stories about them.
She’d told me most of the stories.
Right then, she was Samantha, and Samantha hated me because I was a responsibility.
“I won’t tell. I promise. Just go.” It wasn’t like I couldn’t get myself to school okay for a few days. Even then I’d known it.
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” She’d made her way to the door and stopped. “Are you sure, kid? It’ll be a blast. Live a little.”
I’d paused. Really paused. Then I shook my head and she left.
It was the first time I hated my mom, because for a second, she’d made me want to go. That scared me more than anything. I’d almost lost control and done something reckless. I’d wanted to.
I don’t know why, but it’s that story that plays in my head as Hailey and Jamie try and talk to me over lunch. No, not just talk, we do that every day. I knew that sooner or later they would ask me about the incident at school. I guess they’d been biding their time, waiting to ambush me.
There’s brief seconds where I want to tell them everything and that scares the crap out of me.
“Ah.” I nod my head. That’s where the memory came from, because I almost let go of my control today, just like I had that day.
“Ah, what?” Jamie asks, a heavy weight in her eyes. She cares. They both do. I get that. But how can I tell Mom’s secret? She’s been able to keep it all this time. We’ve been able to keep it. I’d be lying if I pretended that someone finding out didn’t scare the crap out of me.
It would make my life-story true.
It would take the control that I so need out of my hands.
“Nothing.” I shake my head. “The ah meant nothing, and the thing the other day wasn’t that big a deal. It’s not even worth talking about. Did you guys start your essay?”
“Lulu, that wasn’t nothing the other day. That was—”
“Please,” I cut Hailey off. “Please. I can’t… I just can’t.” It isn’t much, but it’s all I can give them. I don’t want to keep secrets from my friends. Again, I wish I could open my mouth and let it all spill out, but what if they look at me differently? It’s one of my biggest fears—for the people I care about to look at me and wonder if I’m crazy. To wonder if I could grow up and be like Mom, who isn’t always Mom at all.
I don’t want to be different.
It’s Jamie who speaks first. She starts talking about her essay. From the looks they share with each other, it’s obvious that I let them down, but I grab onto the subject change like a lifeboat.
The rest of the day goes smoothly. Hailey, Jamie and I laugh and talk during our free time in FBLA.
I feel at my most normal when I’m with my friends. I know I’m lucky to have them, and again, I think about telling them, but the words are still stuck in my throat like they’ve always been. I don’t even like to talk to Dad about it, because I’ve seen the look in his eyes, too. I’ve seen him wonder if I will somehow end up with the same curse the other women in my family have.
I’m on my way to my locker when Mrs. Young, the English teacher, stops me. “Lulu, have you put anymore thought into that writing competition I want you to enter? I know you’re all set up for college, but this will look good. There’s no one here who has the chance to win it, except you.”
No, no I haven’t thought about it. I’d tried to forget about it if I’m being honest. I don’t care if it’s a major award or how good it will look for college. I don’t care about an extra scholarship. I don’t want that creative part of me to exist.
“Thanks, but I can’t. I already have so much going on with school, FBLA, and student council.” As I speak, I’m walking backward away from her. My ribs are shrinking into my chest.
Mrs. Young’s face falls. “Lulu.”
“Thanks for thinking of me!” And then I run out. There are zero parts of me who want to do this, and I won’t. I don’t care what anyone says. I don’t care how good I am or who gets upset about it. I don’t write. Not if I don’t have to.
Dad’s working late tonight, so I start dinner on my own. The spaghetti is almost done when I hear the front door open and close. A few seconds later, Dad walks into the kitchen.
“Smells good,” he tells me.
“Thanks!”
We sit down to eat, and he tells me about his day and asks about mine. I love these times with him. It reminds me of families on TV shows, those people whose lives seem too perfect. Even when they don’t, everything is wrapped up in thirty minutes or less.
“Hey, Lu?” he says when we’re cleaning up.
“Yeah?”
“Your mom says you haven’t answered her phone calls, and that you haven’t returned any of them.”
My stomach drops out. First the conversation with Hailey and Jamie, then Mrs. Young and the writing, and now this. “I don’t know how to talk to her, Dad. Please don’t push me. I….” I don’t have to finish before his eyes grow sad. Just like I did with Jamie and Hailey, I know I’ve disappointed him.
CHAPTER TEN
~Ryder~
On my tenth birthday Dad took me out on a job for the first time. All I did was stand on the corner as a lookout. Even though my hands shook the entire time, I felt like ‘The Fucking Man’—like I was important; like they couldn’t pull the job without me. I was the guy who made sure nothing went down.
Even though it wasn’t a planned gig, they knew what they were doing. It didn’t take Dad long to get into the store—it never did. In and out, that’s what Dad always said. In and out in under ninety seconds. It was thirty seconds when some guy tried to turn down the alley. I had less than a minute to get him as far away as I could, or he’d see the
m coming out with things they shouldn’t have.
And I’d done it. Dad and his friends gave me a small cut and a beer that night. They called me a man. They said I’d saved the day. I’d never really saved anything before, but the words were like a fucking rush. Even then I knew I wanted to hold onto that feeling.
After that, Dad decided birthdays were lucky. His birthday, mine, Luke’s. We always did something big after that; usually something illegal, but we were always lucky and we always celebrated big.
That’s why I find someone to buy me a twelve-pack of beer tonight, and that’s why I buy a bunch of food that costs more than the shit we normally buy, wishing for the millionth time that I could just take it. It’s Dad's birthday, and Luke and I should celebrate it the way Dad would do for us.
Luke sighs as he closes the door. He’s wearing his standard uniform, black pants and a Polo shirt. He got his hair trimmed so it’s shorter than mine, clean cut. He turns and sees me sitting on the couch with a beer in my hand. His eyes dart toward the kitchen, and there’s all sorts of crap in there. Way too much food for the two of us.
“What the hell are you doing, Ry? And who said you can drink?”
I don’t know why, but I let him rip the can from my hand.
“Where’d you get the money for this?” Luke runs a hand through his hair. “Jesus, don’t tell me you’re stealing or selling drugs. Third strike. Why do I have to keep reminding you of this?”
Anger erupts inside me, a seething volcano that has no choice but to release its wrath. My legs shake as I shove to my feet, ignoring that twitch in the side of my head. “Like I could ever forget if I wanted to. All you do is shove it down my throat! I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking trying to be cool with you. It’s not like you ever wanted to be a part of this family.”
I try to head for the door but Luke grabs my arm. “Are you kidding me? I’m here, aren’t I? He’s the one who’s not. He’s the one who chose dirty jobs over us and then bailed. Where’d the money come from man?” he asks again.
I sold my hoodie to a kid at school who wanted it. Tanner gave me some shit out of his house that his parents would never know was gone, so I sold those too. I might as well have stolen it, the way Luke’s acting. At least I’d be getting in trouble for actually doing the one thing I’m good at.
Luke’s fingers dig into my arm, his eyes holding mine, both of them fiery.
“Stealing,” I lie. “What else? You’re lucky it’s something small and not B&E or jacking a car. I’m good at that shit.”
It’s then that Luke’s eyes soften. My body gets tighter, more wound-up, a shaken can ready to explode.
“Celebrating his birthday isn’t going to make him come back for you.”
Boom.
The lid bursts off and I jerk my arm free of Luke’s hold. “Maybe it’s because of you. He won’t come back for me because you’re here and he knows you’d rat him out.”
I make it to the door before Luke says, “Don’t go, Ry. Why are we always doing this? You’re my brother. Talk to me.”
Wrong. He hates Dad, and I know that’s who he sees when he looks at me. Everyone says I’m just like Dad. I’m the guy who Luke assumes is selling drugs, stealing, or the one he thinks will hurt Virginia. “You’re always doing this, not me. And we’re not brothers in the ways that matter.”
You can’t choose your blood. You don’t have to want to be with them. Luke has no choice but to be here with me, even though it’s not what he wants. I’d choose water over blood any day. I slam the door behind me.
Tanner had my back today. Shane, Dre and Cody would, too, and not because they have to but because they want to.
I have no choice but to walk. I could call Shane, but I don’t feel like partying tonight. He’d be cool and chill with me, but why should I screw up his fun just because my brother is an asshole?
My dad once told me that he liked having a place outside of town because there weren’t as many eyes on him. It made sense to me, and it never really bothered me until tonight, but it’s dark as hell out here. Quiet. I’m not real used to quiet.
And it’s a long ass walk for me to get anywhere.
When the wind blows, I shove my hands in my pocket, hoping it will help to keep them warm. My body shivers but I ignore it and keep going.
It was so fucking stupid to sell my hoodie to try and have a cool night with my brother. It would have been easy for me to get what I wanted without it costing a dime.
Like Dad said, I’m a ghost. It’s easy for me to grab what I need. It’s why they started taking me with them. I remember each and every job, remember when they told me how good I was and how good I would be. They used to tell Dad how lucky he was to have me for a son.
Luke might be perfect in his world, but he doesn’t have the respect I do in mine.
I walk for an hour before a light mist of rain starts hitting my skin. My fingers hold onto my phone. I should call Shane, or Drea. Her house isn’t far from here, and even if we have to go chill in the shed out back, it’d be dry. It’s where she goes when she needs to be alone.
For some reason, though, I keep going.
If you need a ride, call. Please.
Virginia…I could call her. She owes me.
A door slams in my brain, closing those thoughts down before they can grow wings and take flight. The rich girl has better things to do than coming out here to pick up my ass, even if it’s homework or whatever she thinks is so important.
Plus, I’ve always been able to take care of myself, so when a car comes by, I stick my arm out with my thumb up.
Of course, the car passes. Then another. It’s the third car that pulls over. My eyes get big when I see it’s a woman old enough to be my grandma.
“You getting in or what, kid?” she asks.
“Are you sure?” sort of tumbles out of my mouth. Grandmas don’t usually pick up kids who look like me.
“If you’re stupid enough to question a ride in the cold, maybe I’m not.”
An unexpected chuckle falls out of my mouth and I get in. She turns up the heat and I rub my arms to warm up.
“Where you going?” Grandma asks.
“Um…anywhere. Can you drop me off in town?”
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
She turns up the country music as though the conversation is over. Fine with me. We drive for about ten minutes or so when we come up on the stretch of ocean I came to with my friends the other night. It’s kind of like a ghetto beach where no one goes because they know kids like me hang out there.
The light rain has already stopped. It’s like that here. One second it’s dry and the next a fucking storm is slamming down on you.
I lean forward when I notice a car parked ahead. It looks like whoever owns it tried to hide it in a dark corner of the beach parking.
When Grandma’s lights hit it, I recognize the vehicle.
Virginia.
Before I can slam the door on the words, like I did on my thoughts earlier, my mouth opens and they come rushing out. “Stop. You can let me out here.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
~Virginia~
Dad trusts me. He always has. I’ve never given him a reason not to. I’ve never gotten into trouble or lied. I’ve never been late coming home or had a problem telling him where I am. Because of that, I don’t have a curfew. I tell Dad where I’m going and what I’m doing and when I’ll be home. As long as it’s reasonable, he’s okay with it.
Tonight is the first time in my life I’ve ever lied to my dad about what I’m doing. I don’t even know why I did it. The need to be alone became a magnet. The beach, this stretch of beach is the other half, pulling me in. Dad understands wanting to be alone. He wouldn’t understand sitting on an empty beach in a town that’s not known for its upstanding citizens.
Even I don’t understand it.
So I’d lied. I’m supposed to be having a movie marathon with Hailey. I’ll text to let him know if I’m com
ing home or staying over. I’m officially a liar. That’s not someone I ever thought I’d be and I hate it.
“It’s a little cold for almost drowning tonight,” says a deep voice from behind me. “I don’t have to worry about you going back onto the deathtrap, do I?”
I whip my head around. A heavy, shaky breath deflates my lungs. It’s pierced-lip boy. I knew that before I turned, but it still makes my body relax to see him with my own eyes.
“Oh look, you brought a lantern. How Virginia of you.”
He’s not wearing a jacket, which surprises me. I have my coat on and a blanket wrapped around me and I’m still not exactly warm. “You don’t know enough about me to say what’s ‘Virginia’ of me or not.” Did that come out right? This whole conversation feels weird considering I’m talking about myself.
He doesn’t move, just stands next to me, looking down. There’s a shadow in his eyes I didn’t notice the other two times I’ve seen him, or maybe it wasn’t there. His body language is different too, heavier, if that makes sense.
He shrugs. “I don’t have to know you well to see that’s something you would do, and I never would. That most of my friends never would, either. I know you’re a planner. You must have known you were coming out here tonight instead of it happening by accident, like it did the first time.”
A gasp comes out of my mouth. I didn’t tell him that I hadn't planned to be here the first night, yet he knows. And I definitely wasn’t coming without some sort of light when I knew I’d be here tonight.
“Bet you even have a weapon.” He cocks a brow, but there’s something forced about it.
“Shut up.” I turn away from him. “Or I’ll use it on you.” Yes, there’s a bat under the blanket next to me. There’s nothing wrong with being a smart girl, even when I am moping on a beach at night.
His voice sounds far off when he replies, “You’re smart. That’s a good thing.”
When I look up again, he’s staring out at the water. He’s shivering, but it looks like he’s trying to hide it. I have no business being out here with this boy. No business being out here at all, but especially with him. Still, watching him stand next to me as he looks at the black water in front of us, I wonder if he can somehow feel like I do. Trapped. Scared. Cursed. Alone.